In the End
by Red Dragon1
Summary: PG13 for suicide and general angst. Harry comes back from fighting death eaters to find Hermione in a mid-life crisis. Songfic to Papa Roach's "Binge".


In The End

In The End

_All I need is a bottle..._

_And I don't need no friends._

_ _

She span round on the chair. It was a nice Muggle desk chair she had bought in a nice Muggle shop because she was a Muggle. Wasn't she. Just a normal Muggle. Not a funny magical person, no, never. She was just a normal person. She lobbed the finished bottle at the wall. She didn't care what she drank anymore, as long as it made her feel good. She couldn't stand to be sober.

_Now wallow in my pain, I swallow as I pretend_

_To act like I'm happy when I drink to no end_

_I'm losing all my friends, I'm losing in the end._

_ _

She remembered two faces. Two pretty faces. They were both boys, she remembered. She liked boys, they were nice. But these boys were magical people. One of them, she remembered, was very important to the magical people. But she couldn't remember why. The other one looked like a carrot. Carrot boy. She liked carrot boy, she remembered, but not as much as she liked important boy. She got up and began to walk around the room, smashing a few lamps on her way.

"No, Harry, I'm perfectly fine..." she whispered, as she collapsed on the floor, knocking a table down on her way and taking a few sheets of paper and books with her. 

_Behave little boy, you better sit back down,_

_Till you hold your ground._

_ _

Harry knocked on the door. He hoped she was in. When there was no reply after a minute or two, he began to worry. It was only 7pm, and his pendant said she was in there. Yes, it was glowing blue...she must be nearby...he tried the door, and to his surprise, it opened. When he saw the state of her flat, he gasped. Lamps were broken on the floor, there was smashed glass everywhere, like someone had been throwing bottles at the wall, and there, lying by an upturned table, was Hermione. He went to the fireplace and called to St Mungo's. Twenty seconds later five mediwizards were coming through the fireplace to take Hermione back to St Mungo's. 

_It's your turn to fight, you bettwe sit back down_

_Till you hold your ground._

_ _

Harry paced up and down the corridor. She was an alcoholic. Why? Harry knew since Ron's death she had been distraght, but this was silly. But he loved her with all his heart, and was determined for her to survive the night. A mediwizard came out of the room Hermione was in.

"Her condition is stable, but she's not fully conscious yet. We were hoping you could come and be with her for when she wakes up. Harry nodded, and walked into the room. She looked worse than when she had been sprawled over the table in her flat. Her skin was a pale grey, the skin under her eyes patterened with blue and green lines of sleep loss. Her eyes were shut, her mouth hanging half open. Her throat was a yellowish red, and her teeth showed signs of disease. There were scars along one of her collar bones from the War, then, of course, there was the unmistakable dark mark on her left forearm. Harry could still remember the night she came running to him after Malfoy, that git, had raped her. She had been walking home from the ministry when he jumped out at her and pulled her into a nearby woodland. He raped her and branded her with the dark mark, a reminder that what had happened to his son and all the other death eaters could happen to her. The Calling was her worst fear for seven years, and after Ron's death at the hands of Voldemort she had become even more frettish. That was three years ago, and Harry had had little contact with her since, as he traveled around the world fighting off the last of the death eaters. Harry was snapped from his thoughts as she woke up. Her eyes widened as she saw him, and she whispered his name.

"Harry...why?" He moved a piece of hair out of her eyes, and said,

"I was about to ask you the same thing."

_When I'm sober, life bores me,_

_So I get drunk again._

_ _

"You first," she said, and pushed herself up so she was leaning against the pillows.

"I love you," he whispered. She stared at him, her face blank.

"No you don't," she replied. Now it was his turn to stare at her. "Harry, I tried to forget the wizarding world. I snapped my wand in two, I've been living as a muggle for three years. First Ron died, then you had to go away...I couldn't take it anymore."

"Why the drink?" He asked, sitting by her on the hospital bed so he was facing her.

"It helps me escape. When I'm sober, life seems worthless, so I drink to stop myself from suicide. I drink to help myself stay for you."

"So why do you think I don't love you?" She looked at him, her once sullen brown eyes shining with a somewhat evil glare.

"I never said I thought you didn't." She got up out of the hospital bed, and walked to the door, putting her hand on the handle. "I meant that you can't. You deserve more than me, Harry. I'm a worthless wreck. Look at me. Look at me! I'm dying, Harry. You don't need me. Go and love someone else. Please. For me, Harry. For Ron. For us." She turned the handle and walked out the door. Hermione ran down the corridor, trying to find the room she was looking for.

_I'm losing all my friends, _

_I'm losing in the end - she says,_

_ _

_Behave little boy, you better sit back down,_

_Till you hold your ground._

_It's your turn to fight, you better sit back down,_

_Till you hold your ground._

_ _

Harry bolted out of the room and ran down the corridor. He span round, checking every person he passed to see if it was her. Running down the stairs, he began to scream her name.

_You better sit back down,_

_You better put that down,_

_Put the bottle down,_

_I am on a binge_

He found her in a storage cupboard on the ground floor. She was holding a knife, pointed at her chest. He shut the door behind him, and began to approach her. She jumped up off the floor, and he saw the evil and determined glare in her eyes which made him stop. She began to sing, her once angel voice turned hard by years of binging.

"_Behave little boy, you better sit back down,_

_Till you hold your ground._

_It's your turn to fight, you better sit back down,_

_Till you hold your ground."_She took a step back and stabbed the dagger through her heart. She made no sound as she fell to the floor, her deep red blood pooling on the floor. He placed a hand on her shoulder, and let the tears roll down his cheeks.

Some years later, after much grieving, Harry decided to find the song that the words Hermione sang came from. He often wondered what significance they held to her. Then, on Hermione's birthday, he found it. But it was the last two lines which held the most significance to Harry.

_"I am on a binge, I wish things would change, _

_Wished they'd rearrange, I am on a binge"_

_ _

It had been him. All his fault, if he hadn't done the heroism thing, then she would have lived. Even if he'd come back in that first year, just to see her, if he hadn't put his career before her, then she would still be here. Fuck the world, it didn't matter if they had all died, as long as she had lived. He loved her.

Two days later, Harry joined Hermione once again.


End file.
